Ballad of the Bouncing Self

At times I, like a butterfly, May flit from bloom to bloom, Or with my whimsy set sky-high To outer space may zoom. And yet, when all’s been said and done, I follow what my fate has spun— For some may strive and ne’er succeed, While others simply do the deed. A Muse impels me on a spree Of whirling swirling craft Where poems must not mean but be… Until I’m going daft. But words, albeit finely wrought, Can only catch a passing thought— For some may strive and ne’er succeed, While others simply do the deed. When my reality looks pale I frolic in a theme From vivid myth, folklore or tale, Where dreams are what they seem. And there where’er I romp and roam I always feel a welcome home— For some may strive and ne’er succeed, While others simply do the deed. I’ve often fallen to the ground And picked myself back up. I’ve hungered for a loving touch And sipped from passion’s cup. My longings, cravings ruled my will; Still never could I drink my fill— For some may strive and ne’er succeed, While others simply do the deed. A life led wrong, though full of song, Will cause us to regret, When pondering the winters long, Our faults we can’t forget. And then we’re washed in bitter tears For senseless youth and wasted years— As some may strive and ne’er succeed, While others simply do the deed. I said I want to live before I die, in villanelle, To learn where lies true wisdom’s door And shun the gates to hell. Yes, wayward ways can still begin To seek and find the Way within— For some may strive and not succeed, While others simply do the deed. – Harley White (July 4, 2014)